


The Bodyguard

by celeste9



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Bodyguard Romance, Death Threats, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur starts receiving death threats, his father insists he employ a bodyguard. When the bodyguard in question turns out to be Gwaine, Arthur knows this won't be good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Unconventional Courtship, utilizing the summary of the romance novel 'Under the Tycoon's Protection'. Also for au: romance novel on my Trope Bingo card. With thanks to deinonychus_1 for the beta.

Arthur thought that, given that he was a highly regarded criminal prosecutor used to working high profile cases, receiving a couple of death threats should have been nothing to be concerned about. Yesterday’s news as soon as he got them, really.

Unfortunately, Arthur’s father, Uther, did not agree. Also unfortunately, Arthur’s father generally got what he wanted.

“I don’t understand why you can’t do it yourself,” Arthur complained to Leon. Leon ran a private security firm. It was quite good. Arthur felt that, if he was going to be forced into hiring a bodyguard, it could at least be someone he liked. Like Leon. He wouldn’t mind so much having someone shadow him if it was Leon.

But it wasn’t going to be Leon.

“I told you, Arthur. I’ve already got a job.”

“More important than looking after me?”

“I gave them my word.”

Arthur sighed. “You and your damned honour. Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be you if you did any differently.”

“I’m sending you someone good, I promise. He’ll be round tomorrow night, eight o’clock.”

“Fantastic,” Arthur said, and hung up.

-

At five past eight the following evening, someone knocked on Arthur’s door.

He hadn’t buzzed anyone in, which meant the bloke had found his own way up. On the one hand, the other tenants were supposed to know better than to let random strangers into the building. (He knew he should have moved into the building with the doorman and the security guard.) On the other hand, Arthur was pretty okay with the man he was hiring to be his bodyguard knowing how to get himself into an apartment complex uninvited.

He was late, though. Arthur didn’t take that as a great sign.

Arthur looked out the peephole.

It was Gwaine.

_Gwaine._

No. It couldn’t be. Leon wouldn’t do this to him. It had to be a mistake. Perhaps Gwaine was with the man Leon had sent, and the actual bodyguard was just down the hall. Or maybe Gwaine was here to tell Arthur the real bodyguard was running late, or couldn’t make it and Gwaine was there in his place just for tonight, or...

There was no way Gwaine was his bodyguard. Leon wouldn’t do that to him.

Arthur steeled himself and unlocked the door, opening it about a foot.

Gwaine braced his shoulder insolently against the doorjamb. “Heard you were in the market for a bodyguard and, well, here I am! At your service.”

“Get out,” Arthur said, and slammed the door in Gwaine’s face. (The muffled ‘ow!’ let Arthur know Gwaine hadn’t moved back quite quickly enough. He was vindictively pleased about that.)

“Arthur!” Gwaine banged on the door. “You have to let me in.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Leon gave me this assignment! I’m going to stand out here making as much noise as possible until you let me in. You know I will.”

Arthur sighed. Yes, he did know. He remembered waking up one night in Leon’s room, after Gwaine had locked himself out. It wasn’t his favourite memory.

Honestly, he was still surprised Leon and Gwaine were actually friends, and that Leon had gone so far as to give Gwaine a job. Arthur had spent the entire duration of Leon and Gwaine’s time as university roommates expecting them to kill each other. Or, for Leon to kill Gwaine, really.

Apparently opposites really do attract, though, and they were basically BFFs. It was disgusting.

Almost as disgusting as the thought of having Gwaine as his unasked for shadow for the foreseeable future.

Arthur sighed again. The things he did to please his father.

He opened the door.

“Let’s do this,” Gwaine said, grinning that stupid grin of his and sweeping in. He was dressed in black trousers and a buttoned shirt, untucked, the top couple of buttons undone.

“Leon always wears a suit for jobs like this,” Arthur says.

“Thank fuck I’m not Leon.”

Arthur begged to differ. Leon would be tolerable. Leon would be quiet and sensible and you wouldn’t even know he was there until you wanted to.

“I have to use the toilet,” Arthur said. “Going to follow me?”

Gwaine was still smiling. “Maybe I’ll just wait outside the door.”

At Arthur’s dark scowl, Gwaine said, “I’m not going to watch you piss, Christ, Arthur. I’ll just have a look round the flat, scope out entrances and such.”

Arthur hid in the bathroom and phoned Morgana. “They’ve given me Gwaine.”

“Oh, Arthur. This is going to be even better than I imagined.”

“You can’t even pretend you aren’t enjoying this, can you?”

“I really can’t.”

“This is all your fault, you know.”

“How is it my fault?”

“You could have sided with me. Between the two of us we could have convinced Father a bodyguard was unnecessary.”

“You know perfectly well that he can’t be talked out of anything once his mind is made up. Particularly not when it involves the safety of his wee precious son.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that, Arthur, dear, you love me,” Morgana said pleasantly. “Now I must be going, but you will be sure to give me all the details about your time with lovely Gwaine, won’t you? Ta ta!”

She hung up. Arthur glared at his mobile, squeezing it in his fist, imagining it was Morgana’s face.

-

The evening passed awkwardly. Arthur was, at the very least, not pleased with the situation, and he wasn’t afraid to do whatever he could to communicate that fact to Gwaine. Gwaine, for his part, remained perfectly cheerful. He did at least appear to know what he was doing, so that was something. Maybe Leon hadn’t just been taking pity on him when he’d hired him.

When Arthur readied for bed, he found Gwaine stretched out on his sofa, in nothing but a pair of boxers. They were the fitted kind, too. Boxer briefs. Arthur glued his eyes to Gwaine’s face.

“Do you have to sleep in my flat?”

“That’s kind of what I was hired for, Arthur.”

“Then do you have to do it without a shirt?”

Gwaine grinned. “That part’s free.”

Arthur spun on his heel and stalked to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Gwaine could find the extra pillows and blankets himself.

-

In the morning, Arthur wandered out of his room with his hair mussed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. The flat smelled like coffee.

He discovered Gwaine in the kitchen, helping himself to all of Arthur’s stuff, apparently.

When he handed Arthur a mug of hot coffee, made just the way he liked it, though, Arthur decided not to complain.

-

Arthur considered it a victory when halfway through the morning, he managed to get Gwaine to install himself in a chair outside Arthur’s door, rather than actually inside Arthur’s office. It was utterly impossible to get any work done with Gwaine constantly chattering, and anyway, Arthur’s clients needed privacy. They didn’t need Gwaine listening in on phone conversations and the like.

After lunch, Morgana rang. “Have you shagged him yet?”

Arthur really didn’t know why he’d answered. “What the hell would I do that for?”

“You wanted to shag him at school.”

“I did not.”

It was sort of true, though. Before Arthur had discovered what a complete arsehole Gwaine was. It was the hair, probably. What person wouldn’t want to grasp a handful of that hair while Gwaine used his mouth for something useful for a change?

Also it might have been the body, too.Gwaine played football _and_ rugby. He was really fit.

But he was annoying, horribly, horribly annoying, and Arthur had definitely not had an interesting dream last night, while Gwaine was sleeping, nearly naked, on Arthur’s sofa. Nope. Definitely not.

“I think he’d go for it,” Morgana said.

“I’m not shagging Gwaine.”

“Why ever not?”

“I don’t even like him.”

Morgana dismissed that immediately. “Like that ever stopped anyone.”

“He’s my bodyguard. He works for me.”

“Oh, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Have you ever opened a book? Watched a movie?”

“Generally I find it’s a good idea not to rely on fiction for life advice.”

“I expect that’s why your life is so dull,” Morgana said, and hung up on him.

-

Arthur’s PA, Gwen, ordered him takeaway delivered to the office, as she did more often than not. Arthur worked a lot of late nights and it was just… easier this way. Anyway his flat was always empty so it wasn’t like he was itching to go home.

This time, when Gwen brought in the bag of Chinese, she also brought in Gwaine. “I ordered extra,” she said, giving Gwaine one of her bright, cheerful smiles. “Perhaps you can even get Arthur to look up from his work for a second.”

“Been trying and failing all day,” Gwaine said. “But then, I’m not one to admit defeat that easily.”

Gwen was beaming at him.

“Thank you, Gwen,” Arthur said pointedly, and she left.

Gwaine sprawled into the chair in front of Arthur’s desk, his legs spread.

Arthur carefully did not look. Instead, he separated out the cartons of Chinese, being sure to keep the sweet and sour pork for himself. And the dumplings (yes, all of them). Then he pushed half of it towards Gwaine. “Here, you can eat somewhere else. I’m busy.”

“You can’t order me around like I work for you,” Gwaine said, laughter in his eyes.

“You do work for me.”

“Nice try, but I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“What if you have to piss?”

“I’ll piss when you do.”

“I thought that was weird,” Arthur muttered. Gwaine actually had been following him to the loo. “I don’t think having a bodyguard is supposed to be this uncomfortable.”

Gwaine stole one of Arthur’s dumplings. “Not every bodyguard is me.”

“That wasn’t meant to be a compliment,” Arthur said, but Gwaine only continued helping himself to Arthur’s dinner.

Arthur really, really wished he’d got Leon.

-

“I’ll admit,” Arthur said the following evening, “that I don’t have much experience with bodyguards, but it seems to me there isn’t usually supposed to be this much nudity.”

Gwaine’s skin was still damp from the shower. It was distracting. The way his wet hair was just starting to curl at the ends and around his ears was, too. “Lucky you,” Gwaine said, with an insolent curl to his lips. As he sauntered past, he purposely brushed up against Arthur.

Arthur ignored the way his heartbeat suddenly seemed to have sped up and did not watch the sway of Gwaine’s hips beneath the towel. Seriously, who did he think he was, walking like that? A girl?

_You’re the worst friend ever,_ Arthur texted to Leon.

Leon texted back, _:)_

-

On Saturday night, Arthur had a party to go to. Not a fun party, but the sort of fancy, society party he was always expected to make an appearance at because he was a Pendragon. Needless to say, Gwaine was going to be accompanying him. Not his usual plus one, it had to be said.

Arthur came out of the bathroom to find himself face-to-face with Gwaine, who appeared to be ready to go.

Gwaine looked _amazing._ The suit was so well-tailored that Arthur was almost jealous, perfectly fitting Gwaine’s admittedly nicely toned body. The tie complemented his eyes and his hair was positively shimmering, like a girl’s, like he’d combed something expensive through it. He also smelled quite nice, fresh and clean and with a subtle spiciness.

Arthur was overcome with an urge to kiss him. It was horrible. He should be too old to be this overwhelmed by hormones.

“You need a haircut,” Arthur said, and pretended not to notice the way Gwaine’s smile slipped.

-

Arthur still hadn’t got used to the way Gwaine was perpetually just behind his shoulder, the way he could turn his head and see him out of the corner of his eye. He was always hyper-aware of Gwaine’s presence, of the shape of his body in Arthur’s wake, of the sound of his footsteps and the way he smelled.

It was worse now, when Arthur was trying to smile and chat politely with people he mostly didn’t care for, and couldn’t stop thinking about Gwaine standing just there. Gwaine, for once, dressed in his best.

“Aren’t you just the best-looking couple here,” Morgana said, sidling up to them. Her dress was slinky in that way that Arthur could appreciate looked amazing but that made him incredibly uncomfortable because it was _Morgana._ She may have only been his half-sister but that was still too much sister for Arthur to want to see that many curves.

“Would you have expected anything else?” Gwaine said, while Arthur did his best to talk right over him.

“I don’t need anyone here overhearing that and getting the wrong idea.” He scanned the crowd. These parties were always filled with the worst gossips.

“You should be so lucky.”

Arthur scowled at Gwaine but Morgana was laughing gently.

“You’re always such a spoilsport, Arthur. I take it your arrangement must be working out, as no one’s killed you yet.”

“No one’s tried, either. I told Father this was unnecessary.”

“He got another threat yesterday,” Gwaine said, and Arthur’s eyes snapped to him.

“What?”

Gwaine shrugged. “It came to the office. I’m looking into it. It’s my feeling this one’s just some bored nutter with too much time on his hands, but can’t be too careful.”

There was something like smugness in Morgana’s eyes. No, not something like it, it was definitely smugness. “My thoughts exactly, Gwaine. It’s so good to see you again, by the way, it’s been too long.”

“I expect Arthur wishes it were under different circumstances.”

Arthur declined to grace that with a response.

Morgana, smiling far more sweetly than she had any right to, touched her fingers to Gwaine’s arm. “I can only hope that we will be seeing more of each other in the future.”

Arthur opened his mouth, though he hadn’t entirely made up his mind as to whether he was going to say something or gag, when suddenly people were shouting and Gwaine was pushing him down onto the floor. There was a loud bang. Arthur realised a second later it was a gun.

Later, Arthur would be embarrassed by the fact he had been so utterly clueless. He would be embarrassed by how helpless he must have appeared to those watching, and how helpless he actually had been.

At the moment, though, Arthur’s thought process was mostly constrained to inarticulate swearing.

“Down, stay down,” Gwaine was saying, his body a heavy weight on top of Arthur and his knee uncomfortably close to delicate areas.

Then he was gone, and Morgana was crouched down beside Arthur, almost as if she wanted to shield him, her already pale skin gone even paler with fright. She was scared. Morgana was never scared.

The hall was a riot of commotion, people screaming and running, and Arthur could only just make out Gwaine as he tackled a man to the floor. That move looked quite different off the rugby pitch.

“Fuck,” Arthur said.

It turned out that, yes, actually, one of those threats Arthur had thrown away was, in fact, entirely real. He was lucky that someone had seen the gun and shouted before the man could get closer.

He was also lucky that Gwaine had been there, as Morgana kept reminding him, with none of her usual teasing.

“I’m all right,” Arthur said for the hundredth time, pushing away the paramedic his father had insisted check him over. “No one touched me but Gwaine.”

Morgana snickered.

Arthur glared at her.

“Yes, of course, of course,” Uther said, but he pressed his hand to Arthur’s shoulder and continued staring at him just the same, as if Arthur might start bleeding from his eyes if he looked away. “I hope this will make you start taking this seriously, Arthur. You need someone with you for the duration of this case.”

“I suppose,” Arthur muttered. His heart had only just stopped pounding but he would never admit to anyone that he’d been frightened.

“Police are taking him now,” Gwaine said, strolling over. His hair was ruffled and there was a darkening bruise on his jaw where the man had hit him. “I think we should head back to yours, Arthur.”

“Yes, I quite agree,” Uther said, stretching his hand out to Gwaine to shake. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Gwaine took Uther’s hand and then shrugged. “Just doing what they pay me for.”

Arthur blinked at him. He would have thought Gwaine would be eating this up, being the hero of the hour. Instead he only looked a little embarrassed at the attention.

“Yeah, we can go now,” Arthur said.

Morgana squeezed him a hug, brief but tight. “Please do remember that if anyone gets to kill you, it will be me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he squirmed away from her. “Not if I kill you first.”

Morgana’s eyes were crinkling at the corners.

Uther said, “Charming,” in his most unimpressed voice.

-

Arthur spent an hour lying flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling. He kept hearing the sound of the gun in his head, remembering how his back had felt when he’d hit the ground. He saw Gwaine tackle the man, over and over, and thought about what would have happened if he hadn’t.

Throwing off the duvet, Arthur got his feet and padded barefoot out of his room and into the hall. To his surprise, he found Gwaine still awake on the sofa, the room silent and dark but for the flickering light from the muted TV.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine turned his head to glance at Arthur. “Could ask you the same thing.”

Arthur moved forward, seating himself on the sofa next to Gwaine. “Can’t sleep,” he admitted.

Instead of teasing, Gwaine only said, “Understandable.” He handed Arthur the remote. “Change the channel, if you want.”

Gratefully, Arthur accepted it. They sat up watching reruns until Arthur nodded off, his head on Gwaine’s shoulder.

-

After the attempt on Arthur’s life at the party, Gwaine was even harder to shake off. The problem was that now Arthur wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to shake him off. He thought he should, because Gwaine’s proximity made Arthur think things that he didn’t want to be thinking, but he also, well, liked being alive.

The police seemed to think that the man had acted alone. He wouldn’t be able to come after Arthur again, not while he was waiting to stand trial. Unfortunately, Arthur knew very well that the police made mistakes and he wasn’t terribly comforted by their assurances.

By the time Arthur arrived at work on Monday, the news had already spread. This wasn’t a surprise, especially considering several of Arthur’s colleagues had been at the party. Everyone in the office had this look about them, like they were furtively sharing secrets until Arthur walked by. Then again, the office usually felt like that. There was always something (or someone) to gossip about.

There were the people who largely avoided Arthur, except to shoot him pitying looks. There were the ones who offered simpering concern, bending over backwards in order to be seen as compassionate. There were the ones who teased and made jokes about it. There were even the ones who, Arthur knew quite well, were sorry only that the shooter had missed.

Gwen baked him a tin full of cookies, chocolate chip, peanut butter, sugar, oatmeal raisin. Arthur suspected this was half a sympathy gift and half a ‘thank goodness you aren’t dead as then I’d have to get a new job’ gift. They were delicious though, even if Gwaine did manage to eat most of them before the end of the day.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle you aren’t three hundred pounds,” Arthur said, frowning at the tin. All the chocolate chip ones were gone.

“I’m just saving you the calories,” Gwaine said, feigning innocence. “You don’t get much exercise sitting at this desk all day.”

Arthur flushed. He didn’t need to exercise more. Anyway, if he did, Morgana surely would have mentioned it.

“Not that you aren’t perfect the way you are,” Gwaine added, his mouth curving into a tiny smirk. His eyes were lingering at Arthur’s shoulders.

Arthur’s flush deepened. He was suddenly grateful that he was sitting down and Gwaine couldn’t look at anything below his chest. Or, he thought he was grateful. He didn’t want Gwaine ogling him. Didn’t he?

“I happened to overhear a few of the secretaries playing that game, you know the one? Shag, marry, kill?” Gwaine whistled. “You could have your pick, I’m just saying.”

Arthur sighed. “Go away, Gwaine.”

Gwaine stood up and stretched, and there was no possible way he didn’t know how he looked doing it. “You’d be on my shag list,” he said, heading for the door. “Or kill. I can never decide.” He grinned and walked out the door.

-

There was a coffee shop down the street from Arthur’s flat that he always liked to stop in at on his way to work. They knew his name and his order. Arthur found this strangely gratifying. On a morning only a few days after the shooting incident, Arthur was crossing the street and trying to stuff his mobile back in his pocket without dropping his coffee when he dropped his mobile instead. He cursed and went to pick it up.

That’s when he heard the screech of tires and Gwaine shouting his name. Before Arthur could react, he found himself sprawled on the pavement with Gwaine on top of him, his body already starting to protest the rough treatment. It was really, really sad that he already knew just how heavy Gwaine felt.

And sort of good, too. Arthur stared up into Gwaine’s brown eyes.

Gwaine stared back. “Have you ever felt like we’ve fallen into the plot of a romance novel?”

“Get off me,” Arthur said, and shoved Gwaine away. He climbed to his feet, noting that the car was long gone. Figured. “Oh, bollocks,” he then said, as he looked into the street in time to see his spilled cardboard coffee container go spinning off as a car hit it. His crushed phone was nearly unidentifiable. “That arsehole ran over my mobile! Did you get the license plate?” He started searching the area. “Are there any traffic cameras? I should sue, I--”

“Arthur,” Gwaine interrupted. “I think you can afford to buy a new phone.”

“It’s the principle of it,” Arthur muttered. The bastard shouldn’t be allowed to get away with not only reckless driving, but destruction of personal property as well.

“Are you all right, though? Just you?”

“Yeah,” Arthur admitted. He supposed the phone wasn’t that important, actually. His arse hurt from where he’d landed and he knew from experience (again, sadly) that his back would ache later, but he was fine. “I expect it might take some time for my pride to recover, but otherwise...”

“Well, your pride could do with some knocking about.”

“Ha, ha.”

“That’s twice I’ve saved your life now. Still think you don’t need me?”

“I’m not sure this one counts. I don’t think that was on purpose, that was just an arsehole who can’t drive.”

“You nearly got run over, except I saved you. It counts.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” And Gwaine said Arthur was the one with a pride problem. “Come on, I’m going to be late, I’ve got to go back and change my suit now. I can’t be seen at the office looking like this.”

Gwaine looked him up and down. “Oh, no, you couldn’t possibly.”

Arthur sensed sarcasm but ignored it. That was always a good route to take with Gwaine.

“Nice underwear, by the way.”

Shame it didn’t work better.

Arthur attempted to tug down the end of his jacket farther. “I should charge you for the cost of replacing this suit.”

“Yeah, yeah, take it out of my paycheque, after you’ve factored in the raise for saving your arse. Twice.”

Arthur decided he wasn’t going to buy Leon anything for his birthday this year. _Nothing._

-

“Gwaine tells me he threw you from the path of a speeding car this morning,” Leon said over the phone.

Maybe Arthur should start telling Gwen to block calls from Leon. “Gwaine has on overactive imagination.”

“I told you this would work out. I told you he was good.”

“He knows his job,” Arthur said begrudgingly. “He certainly isn’t good, however.”

There was a hint of laughter in Leon’s voice. “I’ve never understood why you have so much difficulty admitting you like Gwaine. Even I’ve admitted I like Gwaine.”

“I still think you must have suffered a traumatic head injury while we were at uni. That’s the only explanation for your weird affection for him.”

“He’s a good bloke. I know that you--”

“Sorry, got another call coming in, for a client, got to go,” Arthur said, cutting Leon off. He somehow knew that whatever Leon had been going to say, Arthur didn’t want to hear it. Leon was the sort of quiet person who could fade into the background, and thus noticed far, far too much.

Things like how Arthur had maybe wanted to kiss Gwaine when they were younger. It had often felt like Gwaine had kissed everyone but him.

Which was fine. Arthur would probably catch something from kissing Gwaine. He’d never had an STD. He wasn’t looking to change that.

Through the glass front of his office, Arthur could see Gwaine smiling at the pretty new paralegal, making her blush. Arthur scowled down at his case notes and tried to think of some work he could give her.

-

Arthur was sitting on the sofa next to Gwaine, watching Strictly Come Dancing, when Gwaine said, “Are you always like this? Do you ever go out when it isn’t for work or your dad?”

“I like this show,” Arthur said defensively. It was hard, dancing. Took a lot of skill.

“I know the concept of fun is foreign to you, but it does make life more enjoyable if you embrace it.”

“Shall I be like you, then, and embrace it so much I can’t even remember what I did last night?”

“I remember more than you might think,” Gwaine said, a strange softness in his tone.

Arthur remembered a night, once, when they were in school together, when Arthur had sat talking with Gwaine into the wee hours of the morning, until Gwaine had finally slumped into sleep against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur remembered how warm Gwaine had felt against him, and the soft tickle of his hair against Arthur’s skin. They had never spoken of it again and Arthur had always thought it must have been just another blurred, drunken night in a long line of blurred, drunken nights in Gwaine’s memory.

He wondered if that wasn’t true. Arthur wondered how many things he had said or done to Gwaine when he was drunk that Gwaine actually remembered.

“Gwaine,” Arthur said, and stopped. He had no idea what he wanted to say, but he knew he wanted to say something. He… Gwaine…

“I have a suggestion,” Gwaine said. “Something fun we could do. We wouldn’t even have to leave the flat.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. This could go in so many directions and he was pretty sure none of them were good.

He didn’t move, though, not even when Gwaine scooted closer to him, or when he leaned in so that Arthur could feel how warm he was. He moved so slowly, like he was giving Arthur the opportunity to say no, but Arthur didn’t say no.

When Gwaine kissed him, it was slow, too, soft and leisurely and only with a little bit of tongue. Gwaine’s hand was on Arthur’s jaw and somehow Arthur’s hands were on Gwaine’s shoulders, keeping him close.

“Oh,” he said, when Gwaine leaned back, taking a breath. “Oh, okay. I didn’t… I didn’t realise that was something we could do.” Bloody hell. He was an idiot. He needed to not talk.

But Gwaine was laughing a little, flicking his hair back out of his eyes. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since uni. I just figured you weren’t into me. Hard to believe, I know. Who _isn’t_ into me?”

Arthur blinked. What? Then he responded to the part of that he could actually make sense of. “Sane people, people with respect for themselves, aren’t into you.”

“Aw, that’s all right, Arthur,” Gwaine said, patting Arthur’s shoulder. “I respect you.”

Though Arthur had actually opened his mouth to say something witty (it would have been so, so witty), Gwaine instead took the opportunity to shove his tongue in Arthur’s mouth.

Which, you know, was surprisingly okay. Clearly Gwaine’s years of being an enormous manslut had taught him a few things.

“Oh, _Arthur,”_ Gwaine said in this sort of breathy sigh, like something straight out of a harlequin romance.

Arthur shoved him. “Tosser,” he said, but he was sort of laughing, too, mostly because it was hard not to when Gwaine was grinning the way he was.

“See?” Gwaine said. “Fun. Much better than Strictly Come Dancing.”

Turning towards the TV, Arthur said, “Oh, damn, I’ve missed the end! Lucky I was recording it.”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst. Maybe you’d better get my shirt off if you can still be distracted from my charms by terrible, terrible TV.”

“Strictly is amazing and you don’t get to kiss me any more if you keep insulting it.”

Gwaine kissed him again anyway. Arthur didn’t protest. Actually, his jeans were starting to feel a bit tight, and Gwaine was all but on top of him.

Arthur put a hand to Gwaine’s chest. “So... are we dating now? Is that what this is?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He would like to shag Gwaine, definitely, but date him?

Luckily, Gwaine seemed to feel much the same. “Steady on, let’s not get hasty. I don’t like you _that_ much, Arthur.”

“Good, because I barely like you at all.”

“That’s still more than I expected. Hey, I’ve got a question, too. Do I get a raise now, because I’m providing you with extra services?”

“That would make you an actual prostitute, instead of just sort of a prostitute.”

“I can live with that. I could really use a new TV.” Gwaine pressed a line of kisses along Arthur’s jaw to his ear. “I thought Leon was crazy when he said you’d go for this, but I guess he was right.”

Arthur’s brain felt sort of foggy, but something wasn’t right about that sentence. “Leon what?”

“I thought you’d never even let me in the door. He said you would.”

Oh. Huh. “Leon did this on purpose,” Arthur suddenly realised. “That bastard, he did this on purpose!” Leon set them up. Arthur would never have thought it of him.

Gwaine sucked wetly at Arthur’s neck and then pulled back. “Are you really going to complain?”

Arthur’s eyes settled on Gwaine’s mouth, on his appealingly full, wet lips. “Maybe later,” he decided, and shut Gwaine up the best way he knew how.

**_End_ **


End file.
